


The Purple Tie (and other belongings)

by lokisballs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pietro enjoys having his hair pulled as always, and walks around half naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokisballs/pseuds/lokisballs
Summary: The one where Pietro steals Clint's things to aggravate him.





	The Purple Tie (and other belongings)

It started with a stolen arrow.

Clint realized it immediately as he laid hands on his quiver, just as he was beginning his training session. His fingers caressed the arrows gently, frowning as he saw the empty spot in the quiver. It was one of the exploding ones, and he vaguely wondered if the fire alarm system would be heard sometime that day – it would be, precisely, the sixth time it happened since the last renovation in the Avengers' tower. The first four times were due to something going wrong in Stark's laboratory, and the other one happened after a certain former brainwashed soldier tried to impress his boyfriend, a soldier as well, by cooking dinner. Bucky was forbidden from using the stove after that event. 

The stealing just had to do something with Pietro, Clint was sure. The kid was always trying to find new ways of getting under his skin.  
It did bother Clint – his archery equipment was his most beloved belonging –, however, he knew there was no point in giving the speedster what he wanted. So he proceeded to shoot the holograms and soon forgot all about it. 

––––– 

A few days after, Clint found himself absentmindedly mingling in one of those parties that were specifically designed for the press, aiming to show the new Avengers off. There was a circle around him, Stark hitting on a random model-looking guy, Steve and Bucky making heart eyes at each other, Nat beside him, her left arm circling the archer's right. She was probably paying attention to the conversation going on around them, while Clint was busying himself with what he did best.  


He focused his trained eyes on Wanda, red dress showing her silhouette off, answering whatever the reporter ahead of her asked. She appeared confident, polite smile and open look, and Clint smiled bitterly as he recognized the mask especially painted for the media – he was somewhat of a specialist.  
His gaze swept the surroundings. Again, couldn't find the almost white hair and usual smug. 

“Quit squirming, he'll be here,” Nat poked a well manicured nail at his arm. A lopsided smile framed her lips.  
He could never hide anything from his best friend anyway.

When he looked over at Wanda's direction, Vision was by her side, a hand on her shoulder. Her at ease expression didn't look so forced anymore.  
He observed the scenario again. Still, nothing. 

“I'm going to get a drink,” Clint stated as he disentangled himself from Natasha.  
However, his attempt at escaping the caos that were parties was foiled by Bruce, who claimed that if he was forced to be at the event, so was Clint. Resenting the scientist some, the archer made his way back to the circle that was rather bigger then.

Clint noticed him from a distance. 

The archer took his time to appreciate the view ahead of him. The black suit that complimented his frame matched the dark roots of his hair. His pants were tight in all the right places, as was most of Pietro's wardrobe. He was facing Cap and laughing genuinely at something the soldier said, while hugging his sister from the side.  
As he got closer, Clint saw it.  
A plain, purple tie. Very similar to one he owned. Clint vaguely recalled that stolen arrow. 

Pietro looked good on his favorite color. 

The blond noticed the staring, and his smile morphed into the familiar cocky grin.  
“See something you like?”, Pietro asked when Clint was on earshot.  
“In your dreams, kid.” It was weak, the archer knew, but could he really be blamed when there was this ridiculously attractive man wearing _purple_ , of all colors, right in front of him?  
“You have no idea, old man.” 

Pietro subtly ran his fingers over the tie he was wearing. Clint's mouth went dry.  
A very similar tie, indeed. 

The brunette's imagination was particularly active during the rest of the event. So people wearing his clothes was a kink of his – and Pietro was such a lucky bastard, because he couldn’t possibly know that, and yet there he was, riling Clint up, as always. The fact that the archer wasn't sure if the tie was his or not was aggravating.  
Eventually, Clint settled in the bar. The drunken haze he was in just made the fact that he wanted the blonde clearer in his mind, and he had to actively fight the urge to take the speedster by hand to a dark corner and kiss him senseless, among other things. 

Later that night, Clint needed Steve's help to reach his bedroom. He tripped to his bed and wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep. Still, he opened the drawer were he kept his ties and dress shirts on to confirm his suspicions: his purple tie was missing. 

He went to bed with a smile on his mouth and dreamt about pulling white hair on his hands and blue blurs. 

––––– 

The next morning, Clint couldn't find his favorite mug.

His throbbing head didn't help. There was a time in his life when he could drink all night and still be presentable the next day, but that phase was obviously over. He frowned while moving the mugs around, hoping he had just overlooked it. However, he wasn't so lucky.  
The archer settled for a simple black mug.  
He was leisurely sipping on his coffee when a displacement of air let him know he wasn't alone in the kitchen anymore. He didn't bother trying to focus his gaze on the figure pouring himself some of the dark liquid until Pietro was sitting in front of him on the table. He looked unfairly tidy and cheerful for someone who has just woken up.  


Clint did his best not to react when he realized the boy was shirtless, however, his traitorous eyes wandered down the toned chest displayed in front of him, gulping his way-too-hot coffee down out of distraction. Pietro noticed, of course, smug grin gracing his features.  


The speedster deliberately raised the mug to his lips. In a desperate attempt at not focusing on the man's bobbing adam's apple, Clint fixed his gaze on the white object on Pietro's hand, that read “you make me quiver". 

Of course he would have it. 

“What's the deal about stealing my stuff?”  
“What are you talking about, old man?”, Pietro said lowly, voice raspy. “I just borrowed this. It suits me.”  
Indeed, Clint thought, it did.  
“As did the tie, kid?”, he saw Pietro’s expression change from playful to full on cocky.  
“Your words. But don't worry, I will give it back to you.”  


The way he said it made Clint squirm on his seat.

–––––

There was knocking on Clint's door in the middle of the night. Thinking it was probably Nat coming to check if he was alright – he had skipped the drinking games that were happening that night, as he didn't particularly feel like socializing –, he answered immediately. The archer was surprised to find Pietro in front of him, wearing solely a pair of tight fitting pants and his purple tie. Clint shivered visibly.

“I came to give your tie back to you, Clint.”

That damn accent saying his name.

Clint pulled Pietro into his room by the knot on his tie, pushing the blonde against the door and closing it. It was seconds before their mouths joined and his hands explored Pietro's chest. Meanwhile, the blonde dug his nails on Clint's back, making the latter move forward. The kiss was heated and rushed, a lot like Pietro's personality.

When the lack of oxygen was overbearing, Clint dislodged his mouth from Pietro's, going straight for his neck, lapping his tongue on a sensitive spot and then biting down, hard. One of his hands found the speedster's hair, pulling – and the boy outright moaned. The sound went straight to Clint's cock.  
“You sure about this?”, Clint questioned, breathless. He was pleased to notice the blonde had lost his ever present composure too.  
“I can't remember the last time I wanted someone so bad, _Clint_ ,” because obviously the bastard had realized the effect of him saying his name had on the archer.  


Clint then proceeded to pull Pietro towards the bed by the tie. 

–––––

The next day, sunlight was entering the room through the half open blinds when Clint woke up. He was admiring the way it cast shadows across his room when something white in his peripheral vision caught his attention and – _oh_ , that was Pietro naked in his bed, looking as gorgeous as ever.  


Clint leisurely took Pietro in – broad shoulders and neck graced with bite marks, toned torso filled with scratches. All that his doing. Clint felt great.  
“Morning, sunshine,” Pietro's voice was raspy from having just woken up.  
“Hey.” There was a genuine smile in Clint's voice that matched the one on Pietro's face.  


The blonde leisurely stretched his arms in Clint’s direction, urging the latter to move forward. Pietro’s hand left some residual heat where he touched Clint’s shoulder. “You are usually grumpy without your coffee, but not today,” Pietro whispered.   
“Yeah, not today.”  


Eventually, they left the warmth of the bed for breakfast. He turned around, as he was getting dressed, to find Pietro wearing one of his shirts that had been discarded on the floor.  
“You know, you should steal my stuff more often.”  
“Will do, old man.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've been able to finish a fic. Feels good. And yeah, 2 years later and I'm still in this fandom - I will go down with this ship, clearly.  
> 


End file.
